Source Of The River Read online

  “I’m sorry, I do not know any healing magic,” she said.

  Medicine was not something that dwarves spent a lot of time studying. A man was either strong enough to overcome an illness on his own or he wasn’t. They focused mainly on crude surgeries and folk remedies, most of which did little to help the sick. The women had a few effective remedies for their children, but those would prove inadequate against a magical illness.

  The men rose to leave, and Darvil saw them to the door. Kaiya and Kassie remained seated, digesting the news about the miners.

  As Darvil returned to the kitchen, he said, “I wish you’d give up this magic nonsense and settle down. There’s going to be more trouble if this keeps up.”

  “I can’t change what I am, Papa,” Kaiya replied. “If I can find a way to help, I will do it. Magic is a part of me, and I would never give it up.” She rose from her seat and headed to the door. Before she could depart, Darvil grabbed her arm and hugged her.

  “It’s you I care about,” he said. “With or without magic, you’re my little girl.”

  Chapter 15

  Disappearing beneath the horizon, the sun bid farewell to the Vale. Myla was busy placing flowers in Lenora’s hair while Albyn, Lenora’s father, lit the blue magical fire that would illuminate the celebration throughout the evening. A variety of foods had been prepared, and the peach wine was already begging to flow. Nearly every adult elf in the Vale was in attendance to celebrate Lenora.

  Lenora wore a shimmery white gown along with white flowers and ribbons upon her hair. As she stepped out among her kinsmen, they applauded and cheered. Her eyes danced over the crowd, searching the faces of those who had come to celebrate her special day. River was among them, dressed in a striking blue robe. Her eyes lingering on him for a moment, she felt herself begin to blush, and quickly turned her attention back to her parents.

  Myla kissed her daughter on both cheeks and presented her with a gift. She hung a delicate silver medallion wrought with intricate vines around Lenora’s neck before stepping back to admire her. Lenora ran a hand over the medallion’s surface and pressed it to her heart.

  “Thank you, Mother,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. This was her grandmother’s medallion, which Myla had received at her own Coming of Age Ceremony.

  Next, Albyn stepped forward and kissed Lenora on her forehead. “May the goddess of the forest protect and keep you always.”

  In a crystalline soprano, Lenora lifted her voice in song. She sang sweetly of the elf maiden who transformed herself into a seabird and flew across the ocean, never to return. Her song had a hypnotic effect on River as he sat captivated by her voice. A single star appeared in the sky as she finished her song.

  The crowd cheered for Lenora, and now the feast could commence. Though the inhabitants of the Vale did not consume the flesh of animals, there was still an abundance of savory foods to be found. The Vale’s bounty of fruit and nuts provided a range of different flavors and options. The Westerling Elves were not opposed to sweets, as evidenced by the large number of dessert items.

  Galen paid more attention to the food than anything. He sat at River’s side, stuffing candies into his mouth. “Great party,” he said through a mouthful of food.

  River shook his head and turned his gaze back to Lenora. She sat next to her parents, enjoying some of the food herself. River found he had no appetite this evening. All of his thoughts focused on Lenora as he temporarily forgot about the next day’s journey.

  Some of the elves fired spells into the air, lighting the sky in a multitude of colors. The magic rained down upon the party, delighting the assembled guests. Musicians took the stage, playing stringed instruments and flutes while a slender white-haired elf sang in an elegant tone.

  Galen, who had finally had his fill of eating, caught the eye of a chestnut-haired elf. She waved slightly with her fingers and flirted with her dark eyes. Grinning at River, Galen rose from his chair. “Looks like someone wants to dance,” he declared. He made his way over to the lady and kissed her hand before leading her to the dance area.

  River took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Lenora still sat between her parents, but he summoned his courage and headed her direction. Though her parents would disapprove, Lenora had promised him a dance. After all, she was an adult and capable of choosing a dance partner. Throwing his cares aside, he bravely stood before Lenora.

  “May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked politely.

  Myla and Albyn exchanged uneasy glances, but Lenora stood, ignoring their obvious displeasure.

  “You certainly may,” she replied, taking his hand.

  Turning away from Lenora’s parents, River said, “They seem less than pleased to see me.”

  “Don’t worry about them,” she replied. “They’ve forgotten what it was like to be young.”

  She slid her arm in his, and the two proceeded to the dance floor, where many elves were enjoying the fine music. Lenora wrapped her arms around River’s neck, and he placed his hands upon her waist. They moved in time with the soft strumming of a harp, occasionally looking into each other’s eyes. Though he felt shy and awkward at first, River finally managed to relax and enjoy the moment.

  When the music came to an end, Lenora said, “That was lovely.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer,” he admitted.

  “This is a perfect time to learn,” she replied, taking his hand once again.

  The music switched to a faster pace, and she led him into the group of dancing elves. They danced as one unit, switching partners and clapping their hands. Though many of them took less-than-perfect steps, a good time was had by all.

  Shortly after midnight, the crowd began to disperse. Lenora’s parents had already retired for the night, and she had spent her time in River’s company without their condescending looks.

  Taking one last sip of peach wine, Lenora said, “I guess we should get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  Though many of the flowers had fallen from her hair and she seemed tired from all the dancing, Lenora still looked as radiant as ever to River. Her pale eyes reflected the moonlight, and her white gown glowed as if by magic.

  “I suppose so,” he replied. He was reluctant to leave her side, even for one night.

  Galen joined them as they were saying their goodbyes, throwing an arm around each of them. The smell of peach wine was strong on his breath. “I’ve decided,” he said, looking at River. “I’m going to the mountains with you tomorrow. I’ve always had an affinity for rocks.”

  “The more the merrier,” Lenora replied.

  “You’re going?” Galen asked, surprised.

  “Yes,” she replied with a smile. “The dwarves are in need of a healer.”

  “Well, then,” he began, “we’ll be in fine company.”

  “Indeed we will,” River replied, still gazing at Lenora.

  The clouds rolled in, leaving the Vale in darkness as the trio departed to rest. The next day would bring them to an unfamiliar place, where an evil presence awaited them. This night would be spent in safety, but the future was uncertain.

  Chapter 16

  Books and scrolls went flying through the air as Telorithan searched the contents of his library. His immense collection of documents was another thing he took pride in. Somewhere within these items he would find the spell necessary to allow him to track the elemental living in the Westerling Vale.

  Two servants scrambled to pick up each scroll and volume as it landed. Any damage to these items would be blamed on them, regardless of who was truly responsible. They stacked the books carefully, hoping to avoid a large pileup. If their master’s path was obstructed as he moved about the library, he would be rather unhappy. Facing Telorithan’s anger was not something the servants wished to do this day.

  Pulling out a dust-covered tome, Telorithan sneezed loudly. Turning to the servants, he asked, “Is it too difficult for you to keep this place clean?”

 
; The two servants looked at each other nervously and hung their heads without responding.

  Rising from his knees with the book in hand, he said, “I expect this room to be spotless when I return, or the two of you will be melted down into something useful.”

  The pair frantically set about cleaning to rid the library of dust. Telorithan was a man of his word, and his threats were always taken seriously.

  Exiting the library, Telorithan ascended the spiral staircase to his laboratory. He laid the book open on a long wooden table and flipped through its pages. This book was one of only five copies in existence of a five-thousand-year-old tome authored by Master Zarthan, the most proficient scryer in history. If anyone had a method for tracking an elemental, it would be him.

  Failing to find the information he sought on the first look, he slammed his fist against the table in frustration. He turned away from the book and faced the fireplace behind him. With a casual movement of his finger, a fire roared to life within the hearth. As he stared into the flames, he realized he had been searching for the wrong thing. He did not need a new method to track the movements of an elemental. It would be simpler to find one using fire. Having mastered the flames many years ago, he had used them to communicate in the past. Chuckling slightly to himself, he realized how simple the task before him would be.

  Flipping through the tome’s pages once again, he found a section entitled Scrying with Fire. All that was required, besides his own power, were a few cinders from the Red Isle, a gemstone, and an item to represent the person being viewed. The cinders were simple, as he always kept those on hand for various magical purposes. Obviously, the gemstone would be a sapphire. No other gem would suffice for finding a water elemental. A moment’s thought was all he needed to decide on a third item: a small piece of driftwood from the shore near his tower would work perfectly. An object that had spent countless days adrift in the blue would hold enough water memory to serve his purpose.

  His final hurdle would be conquering the distance. The Westerling Vale was not only across the sea, but it was also a few days’ journey across land. Not to mention it was blocked on one side by mountains and the other by a river. These obstacles would make the magic harder to achieve. He was undeterred, however, and confident in his own abilities.

  Touching his hand to a small brass sphere on his mantle, he summoned a servant to his side. With all speed, the elf ran to the laboratory.

  “I require a piece of driftwood,” Telorithan commanded.

  “Right away, Master,” the elf replied, before running back down the stairs.

  The far end of the laboratory was stocked with ingredients and various items that were used in Telorithan’s experiments. From one of his many coffers, he chose a small sapphire to feed to the flames. After a short search, he recovered a glass container full of ash from the Red Isle. These were the remains of magic created by the most spectacular fire elementals in all Nōl’Deron. They had unique properties, which were required for various spells and held a substantial amount of power. If this practice session with a water elemental succeeded, he would try his hand at binding a fire elemental next. That was the power he longed for.

  The servant returned with a foot-long piece of driftwood, and he bowed as he presented it to his master. Snatching the item from the servant’s hand, Telorithan turned his attention back to the fireplace. The servant backed away slowly, expecting no gratitude to be expressed by his master. He took a position near the door, in case Telorithan required further assistance.

  Telorithan methodically added the items to the fire, all the while muttering an inaudible incantation. The flames danced and sputtered as they received the offering. A soft orange glow filled the room, a sign that the spell was working.

  Holding one hand to his forehead and extending the other toward the fire, Telorithan closed his eyes and projected his mind into the flames. As he opened his eyes, he saw the land outside his home pass by, and the ocean appeared before him. He flew with a bird’s-eye view of the sea, passing waves and sea spray, until he once again reached land. The landscape passed by but soon faded. The fire would require more magic to see farther into the distance.

  The smooth amethyst that contained the essence of the murdered thief sat idly in Telorithan’s pocket. Drawing it up to his eye, he peered at the elf trapped inside. A mist swirled within, taking the shape of the dead man’s face. His eyes pleaded with the master sorcerer to release him from his torment. Without a thought for the imprisoned elf’s suffering, Telorithan flung the gem into the fire. The thief’s power was now a part of the spell.

  Focusing on the flames once again, the image of the land became clearer. He passed the edge of the Wrathful Mountains and into the forest that surrounded the Vale. The sapphire in the flames began to spin, giving a blue coloration to the fire. To Telorithan’s disappointment, the Vale was impenetrable. A force resided there that was too powerful to be spied upon. The Spirit protected the Westerling Elves from all harm, and Telorithan would not be able to penetrate its defenses from this distance.

  Telorithan continued past the Vale and into the mountains above. A dwarven village came into view, and he felt the presence of great magic there. This was a curious discovery, as he had never heard of dwarves practicing any type of magic except rune carving. He wondered if perhaps there was an earth elemental dwelling among the mountains.

  Ending the spell, Telorithan took a seat near the window and stared out over the sea. At the very least, he knew the spell had worked. The elemental elf was still present in the Vale. He would either have to go there and lure it out, or he would have to wait for it to journey from the protected area. Neither scenario seemed likely. Given the power of the Westerling Elves, he could not hope to subdue them all long enough to drag the elemental away. There was a slim chance the elf would leave the area, but he would have to stay near a vast supply of water in order to maintain his power.

  Not yet willing to give up on the idea, he started to devise a new plan. Surely within his library was information that could help. He also had the entire university and some powerful friends that he could coerce into helping him. The matter was not yet settled. He would have this elemental’s power added to his own.

  Chapter 17

  A bright morning arrived in the Vale, lighting River’s path to consult with the Spirit. Disrobing at the edge of the water, he dove into the depths of the Blue River. Emerging near the base of the waterfall, he focused his mind into the water to summon the Spirit within. Today he would travel into the mountains, and he was eager for the Spirit’s guidance.

  To his disappointment, the Spirit did not appear. There was no vision, and he was given no instructions on how to proceed. A solitary line repeated in his ears: the magic you need awaits you there. Perhaps that meant he was to use the entity’s magic against itself. Without further explanation, he was unsure whether he was correct.

  Feeling burdened and uncertain, he returned to the riverbank and retrieved his clothing. Today he had chosen a fine blue robe, embroidered with silver vines. When he encountered the dwarves, he hoped he would make a good impression. He did not intend to appear before them as a wanderer but rather as a dignified elf who had come to offer assistance.

  Ryllak waited a few steps beyond the hill that led down to the river. He could already see the look of disappointment on his son’s face as he returned from the water. Ryllak had also hoped the Spirit would offer more guidance today, but it appeared that was not the case. River shook his head as he reached his father, affirming that he had received no message.

  “It isn’t needed then,” Ryllak said reassuringly. “You will know what to do when it needs to be done.”

  Still unsure, River could only hope his father was correct.

  Lenora stepped outside, followed closely by her parents. Tossing a cloth bag full of herbs and medicines over one shoulder, she walked across the village to meet her traveling companions.

  “Lenora, this is too dangerous!” Albyn insisted,
trying his best to keep pace with his daughter.

  “Please listen,” her mother pleaded. “You don’t know this elf you’re leaving with. Your life could be in danger.”

  Pausing with a huff, Lenora turned to face her mother. “He’s not going to kill me, Mother. You don’t even know him, so how can you judge? I’m going to do what I can for the dwarves.” Spinning on her heels, she continued on her way. Her parents remained silent but continued to follow until she reached River and Ryllak.

  “You’re all right with this?” Albyn asked Ryllak. “This isn’t proper behavior for two young elves.”

  “They are of age,” Ryllak said dismissively. “They choose their own paths.”

  “If any harm comes to my daughter, I’m holding you responsible.” Myla looked at River as she spoke, her eyes conveying the truth behind her words. She did not trust him, but she could no longer control her daughter.

  Lenora shook her head, trying her best to ignore her parents. “Good morning, Lord Ryllak, River,” she said, nodding to each of them. “I’m all set to go.”

  “We’re still missing Galen,” River replied.

  “No you’re not!” Galen’s voice called.

  The elves looked around but saw no sign of him.

  “There,” Lenora said, pointing into the village.

  Galen was hurrying to their meeting place, still stuffing fruit into a bag. “We can’t go without food,” he said as he reached them. “Who knows what dwarves eat?” He looked around at the assembled elves and clamped his mouth shut. Lenora’s parents appeared almost comical, trailing after their grown daughter. Ryllak had his usual worried look that had tempted Galen more than once to try making the elf laugh. Today, he decided to behave properly and resist the urge to make jokes about his elders.

  “I think it’s time we were underway,” River suggested.

  “I’m all set,” Galen chimed in. “How are we planning to get up that mountain? Do you have wings hiding under that robe?”